


is it safe to just be who we are?

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Curly makes an appearance, M/M, Rimming, im hesitant to say D/s dynamics but i feel like its apparent enough for a tag, the slightest hint of daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: To feel Shane’s finger touch the choker so softly ignites the deepest parts of his fantasies, the ones where Shane takes his hand and closes it around his throat, just tight enough to make it difficult to breathe. Ryan’s breath is so shallow it makes him dizzy.“What’s this?” Shane asks, voice barely audible over the music and chatter in the bar. Ryan keeps his eyes on Shane’s face, just to watch the way his eyes light with fire when their eyes meet again. It’s enough to send curls of arousal swimming in his stomach, lower even, his pants suddenly a hair too tight. Shane drops his hand and Ryan swallows as he straightens his posture, squaring his shoulders.“Like it?” Ryan breathes.or; ryan wears a choker and shane's into it.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 40
Kudos: 484





	is it safe to just be who we are?

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back with a choking fic no one asked for. lol. title is from lana's "love song" and please know this is clearly a work of fiction, blah, blah, enjoy!
> 
> this was beta-ed by the lovely [joanna](https://anxiousghouligan.tumblr.com/). all mistakes are my own.

It was a warm night; the tail end of summer. It was someone’s birthday, dozens of people crowded in a bar, sectioned away from the locals. There was a soft, gentle buzz on the tips of his fingers; Ryan sips the rest of his gin and tonic, excusing himself from a conversation he wasn’t paying much attention to.

Heading towards the bar, he digs in his pocket for the cash he stashed away, finding Curly standing at the end of the line. Ryan, unceremoniously, bumps into him, demanding his attention.

“And _you_ look like you’ve had enough,” Curly says, playful eyes. His hair looks soft today, but Ryan resists the urge to tug a coil and watch it spring back; Curly would hate that.

“I’m fine,” Ryan insists, but Curly is probably, very most likely right on the nose. “Really. I’m buzzed at most.”

“Cariño,” Curly says, in that sugar sweet voice. “I’m cutting you off before you—”

Ryan takes in Curly’s appearance. He always looks good, fashion forward with his rings and necklaces, shirt open, displaying his chest. Ryan’s eyes fall on the choker around Curly’s neck, tucked in close around his throat; it’s the stretchy kind he sees girls wear when they channel their inner 90s baby style.

“I like that,” Ryan says, sticking his finger between the choker and his neck, pulling it and letting it snap against skin.

“Fuck, Ryan—” Curly jumps back, not far enough to make much of a difference in how close they’re standing. Ryan can feel his body warm. He wants it, wants to take it from Curly and put it on.

“Can I wear it?” he finds himself saying, wanting to feel it around his neck for some strange reason he can’t quite think of.

“Oh, boy—what’s gotten into _you_?” Curly asks, but Ryan can see the lusty gleam in his eyes.

“Dunno, just—can I?” Ryan asks. Curly shrugs, hands reaching around his neck; his rings glimmer in the soft light of the bar, and he pulls it over his head, handing it to Ryan.

“I want it back,” he says, but Ryan barely registers it, pulling it on, touching his fingers to the stretchy plastic, sitting right over his trachea.

“It’s hot,” Curly says. “Looks good on you.” When their eyes meet, Curly’s got an eyebrow quirked up high. “Now go somewhere before I start getting ideas.”

Ryan leaves, huffing a laugh, in search of someone else to sidle up to. There’s a new level of confidence, thrumming through his body with his new gift. He’s hyper aware of it, the way it rubs over his skin, reminding him it’s there.

Across the bar, towards the back where the pool tables are, he finds a crowd of his friends. Shane stands tall in a corner, surrounded by people. He can tell he’s in the middle of a story, and Ryan just stands back and watches, just for a handful of moments. The expressions on Shane’s face are of wonderment, delight, exasperation. He uses his hands, wild gestures, and Ryan just—can’t stop looking. At Shane’s face, the length of his body, his hands. Shane’s hands are huge - he has long fingers. His body is wiry, not much in muscle mass, but Ryan knows his hands are strong; he’s felt that raw strength when Shane reaches out and touches him where they’re on location and he’s jumping out of his skin. Shane will close his hand around Ryan’s arm, stabilizing him. Here, though, under the lights of the bar, with Shane looking just this side of tipsy, every so often tipping back his beer bottle to drink, Ryan thinks about his hand on skin, touching Ryan reverently, with heat, hands lascivious in nature as they _please_ him.

It’s not a new thought, but it’s one Ryan’s wrestled with from time to time, giving in only when he’s alone at night with his thoughts, bed empty aside from his own figure, touching himself with desperation he feels at the fantasized touch of Shane on top of him. He only thinks about it then, but he’s graduated, it seems, feeling that familiar thrill of want, in the middle of a bar, surrounded by familiar faces. It sobers him, clears his mind, gives him the idea to ask for water instead of another gin and tonic when he walks back to the bar. He can feel eyes on him as he walks away. While it’s usually just paranoia prickling at the back of his neck, when he turns to look, he catches Shane’s eyes, that lazy smile, and watches for a few seconds as Shane separates himself from his crowd to follow him.

:::

“Hey, man. Where’ve you been?” Shane asks, sliding up next to him. Ryan swallows, and the choker around his neck shifts, like it’s saying _remember me?_

“Darts,” Ryan says, mouth dry. The bartender sets a glass of ice water in front of him and he takes it, sipping to quench his thirst. Well, at least some of it; he eyes the way Shane’s hands are splayed over the top of the bar. Long fingers at rest; Ryan, because he’s out of his mind with lust, feeling too good, reaches out to drag an index finger down the middle finger of Shane’s left hand, and then back to his wrist where he draws invisible lines just underneath his watch. He’s acutely aware of the way Shane’s breath draws in sharp, so he looks up, attention caught by Shane’s dark, dark eyes. They’re glossy, inquisitive, asking questions he won’t say out loud. But his eyes drop, and then he moves so quickly, turning his body to Ryan, reaching his hand out to touch his fingers so gently to the Ryan’s chin, tipping his head back.

To feel Shane’s finger touch the choker so softly ignites the deepest parts of his fantasies, the ones where Shane takes his hand and closes it around his throat, just tight enough to make it difficult to breathe. Ryan’s breath is so shallow it makes him dizzy.

“What’s this?” Shane asks, voice barely audible over the music and chatter in the bar. Ryan keeps his eyes on Shane’s face, just to watch the way his eyes light with fire when their eyes meet again. It’s enough to send curls of arousal swimming in his stomach, lower even, his pants suddenly a hair too tight. Shane drops his hand and Ryan swallows as he straightens his posture, squaring his shoulders.

“Like it?” Ryan breathes, preening underneath Shane’s gaze. He’s very, very aware of where they are, how many people surround them, but it seems no one pays any mind. And that’s fine with Ryan, he doesn’t care anyway, not when Shane is looking at him like this, with hazy lust-filled eyes, licking his lips. His beard is scruffy; Ryan wants to feel it against his fingertips.

“You didn’t come in wearing this,” Shane says, so matter of fact and Ryan shivers.

“Do you like it?” Ryan says again, taking the smallest step closer to Shane. He can see the way Shane visibly swallows, nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. It looks really good on you,” he says.

Ryan smiles, skin flushed; but he isn’t shy, not right now with the buzz of alcohol and the air crackling like static between them. They’re standing close enough that it might look odd to their friends. Ryan reaches out to touch a button on Shane’s shirt.

“Wanna take me home?” Ryan asks, looking up through his lashes this time. Shane’s eyes darken, lips twisting into a devilish grin that makes the heat sit hotter inside Ryan.

“Yeah,” Shane says, grabbing Ryan’s hand, enveloping it in his own. “We should probably say goodbye to everyone.” Shane’s reasoning is empty, because Ryan has one goal in mind, and that’s to suffocate underneath the weight of Shane’s body. He couldn’t give two fucks about the rest.

“We’ll see them later. Come on.” When Ryan turns, they’re still holding hands; he can feel Shane’s fingers slide into the spaces between his own, holding tightly.

As they make their way towards the exit, Ryan catches Curly’s eyes, and Curly grins at him, giving him a salacious wink that makes Ryan’s body blossom with heat.

:::

They stand outside with the smokers as they wait for their ride; on drinking nights they never bring their cars. LA is staunch with heat, and Ryan can feel the air on his skin, but he doesn’t know if it’s the weather or if it’s Shane standing too close. He wants to reach up and kiss him, wants to knock Shane’s guard down. He’s so quiet, has been since they walked outside. For the sake of preservation, Ryan tugs on Shane’s fingers where their hands are still clasped, coaxing Shane to look at him. There’s a tender little lock of hair that falls over his forehead.

“Hey,” Shane says, catching his eyes, vision flitting down for fractions of a second before meeting Ryan’s eyes again.

“This… this is okay, right?” Ryan asks, and it feels like there’s a time out, like whatever they say now they can get out of the way and not mess anything up. Anxiety snuffs heat for a while as Ryan searches Shane’s face looking for any sort of doubt.

“This?” Shane asks, tugging on their clasped hands. “I mean—yeah,” he says. “I’ve thought about it. Taking you home. With _intentions_.”

Grinning, Ryan feels lighter, like that’s all he wanted to hear. “Really?”

Shane hums. “I get messed up sometimes about it, wanting to tell you but not wanting to ruin things.”

There’s a softness there, something that combats the lust that’s been steadily sloshing in his veins. Ryan feels that, knows that same sentiment like it was his own.

“I just think about you when I’m alone,” Shane says, dropping Ryan’s hand to grab him by the hip and pull him in close. Ryan’s lightheaded from it, the way his body shivers when he’s flush against Shane’s very solid, very real body. He swallows, the choker shifting again.

“What do you think about?” Ryan asks, his voice a whisper, eyes heavy lidded as he looks up at Shane.

“I think it’s better if I show you.”

Ryan’s breath leaves his lungs and Shane grins, just as their ride shows up, pulling in just ahead of where they stand.

:::

They decided as they stumbled out of the bar that Shane’s place would be better; Ryan has roommates and can’t guarantee the privacy Ryan needs for this. With their friends, they can play it off; they were just _drunk_ , he can excuse. They’re just being Shane and Ryan. But, the heaviness of walking in after one in the morning with Shane, leading him into his bedroom, eyes following them, witnessing; Ryan doesn’t know if he’s quite ready for that part of it. He’s willing to touch Shane and be touched by him, get to know parts of each other’s bodies with sex-driven hunger, but to display it so valiantly? Maybe later, maybe after he’s sure they haven’t burned the last handful of years to the ground for the sake of getting off.

They hold hands, bounding up the stairs; it takes the edge off, the way Shane races up, long legs skipping steps while Ryan laughs behind him, trying to keep up. There isn’t anything different; maybe they’re about to fuck on Shane’s bed, but it just feels natural, like the next step in their relationship. From friends to lovers--it happens all the time. Spending so much time together has blurred the lines into a grey area that allows them this, laughing with each other as Shane unlocks the door to his apartment and pulls Ryan in.

“Do you want anything?” Shane asks, as they stand admittedly awkward in the entryway. Ryan shakes his head, can feel his nerves fray as heat simmers under his skin.

Silence blankets them as the air charges between them. They’re close enough that Shane can reach out and touch the choker with his fingertips, skin warm; Ryan can feel the tremor in his hand.

“Should we talk about this first?” Ryan asks, meeting Shane’s eyes.

“Do you want to talk about this? There’s no hard feelings if you change your mind,” Shane says.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Ryan says, voice certain, because he is, because he wants this so bad he’s crawling out of his skin.

“Okay,” Shane says. “Do you know what you want?”

“Vague idea,” Ryan says, but that isn’t quite true; he doesn’t want to spring his kinks out on the first night, except it’s all he wants, to be held down and _fucked_ , Shane’s hand around his throat. He shivers under Shane’s gaze, closing his eyes to escape, just so he can breathe.

“You gonna share with the class, Bergara?”

When Ryan opens his eyes, Shane’s closer; they’re not flush against each other, but it’s pretty close. Shane’s hands winds their way around Ryan’s waist and Ryan grips his hands just above Shane’s biceps. Shane leans in, his nose gentle over Ryan’s cheek, his breath hot, and Ryan can’t help the overstimulated moan he makes. Shane pulls him closer, and Ryan realizes he’s shaking.

“Come on,” Shane coaxes, voice saccharine. “Tell me what’s got you so worked up,” he murmurs.

“I—” Ryan swallows, feeling overwhelmed, too hot for his skin. “I just want you,” he whispers, hiding his face against Shane’s collar, inhaling deep, feeling himself with the scent of his skin, that earthy, woodsy smell that Ryan is too, too familiar with.

“You can do better than that,” Shane counters, pulling back. He has to touch his fingers to Ryan’s chin so Ryan will look at him.

“Hands,” Ryan says, out of breath, scrutinized under Shane’s heavy eyes, dancing with soft light from the living room. It’s like he’s coming back into himself; the confidence has left him and now all he wants is for Shane to touch him, keep talking to him like he’s prying apart his ribcage to find the answers he’s looking for.

“What about ‘em?”

“Want you to, uh,” Ryan swallows, tries to push away that buzzing feeling so he can collect his thoughts properly and tell Shane what he wants. “Want you to put your hands around my neck while you fuck me.”

Ryan has to admit, the surprised expression on Shane’s face makes his stomach twist, one part delighted and the other part terrified.

“Too much?” Ryan asks, huffing out an embarrassed laugh. “Cause listen, I’m not changing my mind,” he says, trying to pull away from Shane, “but if you want to, I can go.”

“Go?” Shane keeps him tucked in close. Shane’s eyes are swirling with questions, staring at Ryan like he’s never seen him before. “Have you done this with anyone?”

Ryan shakes his head. Sex? Sure. He’s had a handful of girlfriends over the years; he isn’t celibate. He’s done some things, but the vanilla side of kinky, a little spanking, a little tying up. But this always seemed off limits—he’s never wanted to do it to anyone _he_ was fucking. But the thought of someone, of _Shane_ , choking him a little while he gets off? He doesn’t know of anything he’s wanted this much.

“I know,” Ryan says. “It’s a lot for, you know, our first time, but I think I might die. Like—it’s a new thing. But sometimes I see your hands and I just—I think about you doing it to me. On top of me, inside of me—” there’s a soft whisper from Shane, a simple _fuck_ , and Ryan shudders “—I just want you to. ‘Cause I know you’ll take care of me.”

That’s the first time they kiss, just then, and despite how hard Ryan is, he leans into Shane’s gentle gesture, humming against his mouth. He opens up for Shane, invites the slick slide of his tongue, groaning into his mouth when he pushes Ryan against the door. Ryan likes it, likes this, being pressed in close against Shane, smothered. He winds his arms around Shane’s shoulders as Shane’s hands find the curve of his ass, lifting him. It’s so effortless, and it breaks their kiss, just so Ryan can throw his head back against the door and let Shane kiss over his throat. He can feel the choker drag against his skin, snapping gently when Shane tugs it with his teeth, letting it smack against his flesh. Ryan groans, canting his hips against Shane’s belly to relieve the pressure; he feels too much, all at once, and he just wants it all, needs it.

“Come on, Shane,” Ryan whines, gripping his fingers in the fabric of Shane’s shoulders.

“What do we say,” Shane starts, pulling back to look at Ryan, eyes like darkness, so unlike the warmth he knows, “when we want something?” This—this is a different Shane all together, encompassed by desire and Ryan feels his breath leave his lungs by sheer force, like a punch to his gut.

“ _Please_ ,” he says. And Shane kisses him once on the lips, short enough that Ryan chases after it.

“Good boy,” Shane praises, and he ruts against Shane, trembling. The praise catches him off guard and he loves it, adores it, wants to do more to get that reaction from Shane, wants to _be_ good for him. He’d do anything to feel the way the praise blossoms through him, like soft warmth.

“Can we go, please?” Ryan asks. “Just take me into your room, I just—I want you so bad,” he murmurs, his mind a mess with the smell of Shane, his hands, the way his eyes are hyper-focused on Ryan.

Shane lets Ryan drop to the floor, wobbly on his feet, but he takes Ryan’s hand and leads him down the hall. Ryan takes the chance and collects himself, relearns how to breathe and shuffles his thoughts to semi-organized. The light in the living room stays on, Ryan realizes belatedly, as Shane shuts the door to his bedroom when they walk through.

The tension is thick, and Ryan sits on the edge of Shane’s bed. The room is dark, but he can hear Shane move, and then the room floods soft gold from the bedside lamp. Ryan kicks off his shoes, breathing evenly, but only barely. He uses his hands to take off his socks as Shane sits next to him, the bed dipping with his weight, Ryan rocking into Shane so their shoulders knock. Shane does the same, kicking off shoes and socks, leaning back on the palms of his hands. Ryan doesn’t move away, just looks up at Shane’s face, finds kind, tender eyes looking back at him. Ryan didn’t realize it right away, but there’s safety here, an innocuous place free from judgement. He doesn’t have to worry about going too far with Shane because he knows, _knows_ , that Shane’s got him. If they hit a roadblock, he’s sure they’ll figure it out, because it’s what they do. Shane’s his guy, his best friend, and now—something unnamable, something he’d not fathomed, but he’s good with that, too.

Shane sets a gentle hand on Ryan’s thigh, just above his knee. The gesture is familiar, grounding. Ryan shifts, just little; he’s so hard and he’s aware of it, pressing uncomfortably in his jeans.

“We should probably think of a safe word,” Shane says, and Ryan huffs, burying his face into Shane’s shoulder.

“Apple tater,” Ryan whispers, and for a moment, the tension eases, and they laugh, big wide grins.

“You’ll tell me if something’s wrong, right?” Shane asks, and for the first time that night, Shane looks worried. And it’s for good reason, because sometimes, Ryan’s anxiety doesn’t let him speak up like he wishes he could. But he feels too secure for that to feel like it’s an issue. “Like, if I hurt you or you don’t want it—any of it, you have to tell me. That’s the only way this can work,” he says. And still in their tender air bubble, Shane reaches up to touch Ryan’s cheek. “I want you to feel good, Ryan, but I want you to be okay, too.”

Ryan’s heart skips in his chest, like it’s forgotten how to beat properly. Ryan sucks in a shaky breath, nodding. “I feel safe,” Ryan whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of them. “I’m with you.” Ryan shifts, just so he can tuck in his thighs astride Shane’s hips, knees in close as he sits on Shane’s lap. Shane touches his hands to Ryan’s waist, around to his hips to slip his hands into the back pockets of Ryan’s jeans, pulling just enough to make Ryan fall into Shane’s chest, their mouths finding each other’s so easily, like they’ve been lovers for a long time.

The kiss is gentle, an echo of their conversation, but it doesn’t take long for the want to stir again, curling inside of him in smoky tendrils, threatening fires. And when Shane tugs at his shirt, the fire starts, igniting hot, unforgiving in the way it takes over Ryan’s body, leaves him susceptible to Shane and whatever Shane wants to do to him. The thought alone drives him wild; Shane manages to get Ryan’s shirt off, hands smoothing over skin in a way that makes Ryan feel cherished. He can hear Shane say, “Fuck, your body is insane,” and Ryan quivers, letting his head fall back to accommodate for Shane, give him passage to his throat so he can kiss, sucking hungry marks into his flesh. The choker rubs against his skin and it makes his mind foggy, cloudy with desire. He wants to be naked, wants Shane to move it along, so hard it almost hurts.

“Can I suck you off?” Ryan whispers, grinding his hips back; Shane’s hard against him, groaning when Ryan shuffles off of him, kneeling to the ground. “Please?”

Shane already _looks_ wrecked; hair askew from Ryan’s hands, eyes dark, mouth wet and red.

“Yeah, baby,” Shane says, a slight tremor in his voice. He leans back on his elbows and watches with heavy eyes as Ryan unbuttons and unzips his Chinos, tugging both the pants and Shane’s underwear down his thighs and off of his legs.

Rather than take off his shirt, he bunches it above his belly. He widens the space between his knees, space for Ryan to fit. Ryan’s can help but peruse; Shane lying back like this, cock wet at the tip resting just over the very top of his thigh.

It’s big, proportionate to the rest of his long limbs, thick; the hair from Shane’s belly button leads neat to the base. Ryan licks his lips in anticipation, reaching his hand out to touch it, take it against his palm. Shane’s thighs are already shaking, and he’s barely done anything, but he keeps his eyes on him, watching Shane’s reaction as he touches his lips to the tip, stroking at the base.

“You don’t even know how you look, do you?” Shane murmurs. “On your knees, with that around your neck. You look so good, baby.”

Ryan slips lower, taking more of Shane into his mouth; it’s a foreign feeling, but he likes it, and maybe it’s just because he’s so gone over Shane that it doesn’t matter what they do. But this, with Shane at his mercy, he revels in it, the way he gasps and runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Ryan’s head and lower, fingering the neck charm Ryan wears. It’s so close to what he wants he takes Shane as far as he can, enjoying the weight of Shane’s cock against his tongue, heavy, thick, making his mouth water. His eyes burn with tears, but it’s so good. He pulls off, gasping for air, his lungs burning.

“You’re so good for me,” Shane says reverently. Ryan strokes him, quicker now, tonguing the slit the way he knows he likes. Shane’s breathing is shallow, and his eyes are dark again, that sweet, syrupy tenderness lost to carnal pleasure. Ryan watches Shane as he takes him in again, as far as he can; he can feel Shane twitch in his mouth, hot flesh tasting like salt and bitter precome. “Do you like it? Being on your knees for me?” Shane asks, voice shaky again, fingers through Ryan’s hair. Ryan nods as best he can, touching himself with his auxiliary hand, pulling off Shane’s cock with a lewd pop, saliva stringing from his mouth to the head.

“ _Yes_ ,” Ryan gasps, desperation clogging the ventricles of his heart. “I think…” he starts, collecting his breath. “I think I’d like it if you fucked my mouth,” Ryan whispers, licking up the side, over the thick veins, sucking at the tip just to tease. “Would you?”

“ _Fuck_ , Ryan, where did you even come from?” Shane breathes, but Ryan is shuffling back to make space, tugging at the back of Shane’s knees.

“I want you to stand up when you do it. Just hold me in place,” Ryan says, brutally aware how desperate he sounds, how delirious he must seem. “I just wanna be good for you? Am I being good?” Ryan asks. Shane does stand, so tall Ryan cranes his neck to see him. He takes off his flannel and throws it to the floor. In time-paused, Shane reaches down to touch, fingers so gentle against Ryan’s jaw.

“You’re being _so_ good, Ryan. Such a good boy for daddy.”

Ryan’s eyes flutter, leaning up on his knees to rest his forehead on Shane’s belly, breathing hard. That wasn’t pre-negotiated, but to be fair, Ryan started it, at the lighthouse. He remembers, laughing about it then, but he’s in shambles now, listening to the way Shane says it so effortlessly, like maybe he’d already known that this was where they were headed.

“Come on, baby,” Shane says, his voice calm. He’s still touching Ryan’s face, thumbing Ryan’s bottom lip. “Can you open up for me?” Ryan nods viciously, leans back just enough to part his lips, taking Shane at his own pace, licking and sucking without decorum, just need to please, because he loves the way he feels so full, but knows it’s just a fraction of what he’ll feel later on.

At the expense of touching himself, Ryan presses his hands onto Shane’s narrow hips, digging his fingers in when Shane’s fingers press at the nape of his neck. Shane’s tentative at first, but then not at all; it’s so much Ryan has to close his eyes, making the most obscene noises as Shane fucks his mouth, pushing against the back of his throat. It’s messy, but he loves it, the way it makes him feel just this side of dirty, this side of objectified. He can hear Shane cursing, grunting, pulling out so suddenly Ryan chokes from it, breaking hard enough that he bows in on himself, hands on his own knees to keep him some semblance of upright.

“Ryan, listen to me,” Shane says, voice authoritative; Ryan looks up, eyes bleary from the tears. “Stand up, come on,” he says, tone gentler, now, and he holds his hands out for Ryan to take, helping him to his feet. In silence, Shane works his hands over Ryan, tugging off his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off in one fell swoop with his underwear. He leans against Shane’s chest, because he just needs the contact, to feel Shane against his skin. It’s already been so much, he’s overwhelmed, like he can’t figure out how to properly breathe anymore. Not when it’s like this, the intensity of their fucking too much and simultaneously not enough for Ryan. He’s teetering on a peculiar edge, a strange place in his head where he’s overcome with his newfound needs to be touched in such a dirty, greedy way.

“Ryan, babe,” Shane whispers, arms closed around his shoulders, keeping him tucked in close. Ryan nods, pressing a soft kiss to Shane’s chest. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

“ _No_ ,” Ryan says, because that’s the one thing he’s certain of. He wants this, so much it’s probably dangerous, this high he’s riding because of Shane and his hands, the way Shane talks to him, touches him.

“Are you sure? You’re shaking,” Shane says, the disbelief apparent in his tone.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Ryan says. “I promise, please. I just—” he runs his hands over Shane’s shoulders, pushing himself up to kiss him. Shane kisses him and Ryan loses himself in it, just follows Shane when he guides him back into the unmade bed. Ryan lays on his back, Shane in the space between his thighs, heavy but good; he knows Shane can hold him down, keep him in place when he fucks him, he _knows_ it.

Ryan ruts up against Shane; there’s wetness between the two of them. Between the sweat and the pre-come, it’s slick, good enough to have Ryan arching underneath Shane’s body, scraping his nails over Shane’s shoulders as Shane mouths at his throat, nipping at his skin between feral grunts that make Ryan shiver. And then Shane rescinds his body, sitting back on his haunches; Ryan opens his eyes to find Shane looking over him, a look of wonder on his face, eyes glittering, mouth parted just a little. Ryan blushes under his eyes, feeling too exposed, lying naked on Shane’s bed, legs spread, dick hard and leaking against his belly. “Shane,” he whines, covering his face with his hands, closing his eyes. He can hear the softness of Shane’s laugh, the gentleness of his breath against his chest. Ryan leans into it, this marvelous feeling of being so, so close to the edge and also not; Shane’s mouth drags down his body, tongue flicking over Ryan’s navel. Ryan lets his hands fall from covering his face, bunches his fist in the blankets.

“In the top drawer,” Shane says, mouth pressed at the crease of his hip, “there are some condoms and lube.”

Ryan twists, tugging the drawer open. It’s neat inside, and the condoms are in a box and there’s a little bottle tucked in the corner, like travel sized hand sanitizer. Ryan makes the decision to suggest something, his hand on the box hesitantly.

“Shane?” Ryan says, swallowing.

“Hmm?”

“What if you fuck me without the condoms?” he asks, taking only the bottle of lube from the drawer, leaning on his elbow to look down, watching the way Shane’s eyes turn dark.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot less messy if we use them.” Shane takes the lube from Ryan’s hand, setting it next to himself on the bed sheets.

Ryan could have figured that, but if he was worried about the mess, he wouldn’t have asked. “I just think,” Ryan whispers, suddenly shy again, “that I would really like to feel you come inside me.”

“ _Fuck_ , you’re going to kill me,” Shane mutters, and then, like he’s trying to torture Ryan, he takes Ryan’s dick into his mouth, licking in long stripes, much too teasing for it to be of any real ease to the pressure inside of him. It just makes it worse; he jolts his hips up. Shane’s wide hand splays over Ryan’s belly, holding him down with enough force that Ryan really can’t move his hips up. The display of strength pours kerosene on the fire and Ryan whines, feeling tears prickle in his eyes in the most deliriously good way he’d never imagined he could feel.

“Pull your legs back for me, okay?”

Ryan nods, and he feels like he’s outside of his body, watching himself, watching Shane; he’s too open and vulnerable, he trembles, but Shane’s hand shifts to the back of his thigh, their fingers touching. He watches with curiosity as Shane dips his head and he feels the wet heat of Shane’s tongue against him; he’s so surprised by the feeling he gasps, expelling a long, drawn out groan, pinching his eyes closed, shifting his hips so he can get closer to the feeling.

Shane’s quiet as he licks him out, long deliberate strokes of his tongue pressing insistent against Ryan’s hole, so suddenly replaced by a finger. It’s much different than he’d imagined it would be—he relaxes his body, tries to sink into the mattress, letting his eyes flicker open as he shifts his hips. Shane’s watching him, breath short and cheeks flushed. Ryan can see Shane’s cock, hanging heavy between his thighs, and there’s a thrill when he sees the way the head glistens. Ryan reaches down to close a hand around himself, not able to take it anymore, but Shane bats his hand away, grinning wide enough that a dimple craters his cheek. Ryan listens, obeys, really, setting his hand back on his thigh to hold himself open as Shane fucks him with his fingers, which is almost enough, almost. Ryan arches his back, whimpers pathetically when Shane fucks him just right, stars exploding right before his eyes.

“ _Oh, Shane_ , fuck, fuck,” he whines, rocking his hips back harder, like Shane will make it happen again, but the position is too awkward for him to do it effectively.

“Good huh?” Shane says. “Imagine how it’ll feel when I fuck you, baby, get you all stretched around my dick, get my hands around that pretty throat of yours.”

Ryan shakes, like he’s too close, too close to the fire, but the pressure just builds as Shane finger fucks him, toys with him, and then it’s all gone, and all Ryan can feel is the burn of his lungs as he tries to breathe. Shane slinks up his body, settled neatly between Ryan’s greedy thighs, and Ryan touches like he’s been deprived, hands anywhere he can reach, brushing over Shane’s nipples to hear him moan, over Shane’s cock to hear him grunt so deliciously.

“Are you ready?” Shane asks him, and Ryan’s body tenses a little bit, finding Shane’s mouth and kissing him with a fervor previously untapped. He kisses Shane breathless, rutting up against his stomach, feeling the way Shane’s cock teases at his perineum, slipping lower and catching in the cleft of his ass cheeks.

“Yeah,” Ryan breathes when Shane pulls back, asking again.

“You’re sure?” Shane says.

Ryan nods. “I promise, please,” he says, voice cracking almost embarrassingly.

“You’ve been so good for me, Ryan,” Shane praises. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

The words are sharp against his skin, makes his cock twitch with a sense of _finally_. Ryan thinks about it, actually takes a minute, cause he always sort of imagined himself on his back, or maybe straddling Shane’s hips, but he decides he wants to be on his knees, so he pushes Shane off of him, rolls over and props himself up on his hands and knees. He looks over at Shane, and says, “Like this. This okay?”

“Hmm,” Shane hums. “Why don’t you get your hands on the bed frame,” he says, disappearing behind Ryan as Ryan does as he’s asked. Moving forward, he presses his hands against the cool wood, a stark difference to the incendiary heat of Shane’s body as Ryan feels him drape along his back. His hands touch Ryan’s thighs, drape slow over his hips and waist, settling firm on his shoulders. All Ryan can see beneath him are the rumpled bedsheets, the pillows; he made a mistake, he thinks, because he can’t see Shane like this, but _fuck_ , that thought evaporates when he feels Shane’s cock pressed against him, teasing.

“Okay?” Shane whispers, breath hot between Ryan’s shoulder blades. Ryan nods, whispers, “Yes, yes,” over and over again, words melting into helpless moans as he feels the stretch of himself around the head of Shane’s cock. “I need you to breathe for me,” Shane says, so gentle it breaks Ryan; his hands hurt from gripping the bed frame so hard, and his thighs are shaking like he can’t hold himself up.

Ryan breathes in deep, trying to stay within the moment, but it’s difficult with all this newness; he tries anyway, choking out desperate gasps as Shane fills him up so well, he might just sob from how good it feels. He’s had sex, with different partners, and they all felt different in the moment, but _this_ just blows his mind completely. He’s quivering, but Shane’s hands are there, pressed against his hips, like he’s holding him up.

They’re just there, Shane inside of Ryan and Ryan just getting used to the feeling, how thick Shane is inside of him, a burn that he invites to overtake him. “How are you so unaffected by this?” Ryan asks, his voice shredded; he doesn’t sound like himself.

“I’m not,” Shane says, his voice just as torn, but it drips with sex, with certainty, killing any doubts. Shane pulls out just a little and Ryan moans, brokenly sighs, closing his eyes. “Don’t you know how you make me feel?” Shane whispers, pressing back in, quick and deliberate, punching out another broken moan from deep in Ryan’s chest. Shane pulls out, and then quickly strokes back in, and then again, and again, until there’s a hard rhythm built, one that makes their skin smack together and Shane’s hands tighten around his hips. Ryan’s dissolving, tears prickling in his eyes again, keeping them closed as Shane fucks into him. He doesn’t recognize the sound of his voice as he calls Shane’s name. It’s just a fast cant of Shane’s hips, gripping his hips so hard he knows they’ll bruise.

“Tell me how good it feels, Ryan,” Shane grunts, his words punctuated by the sound of their fucking, and Ryan just—he can’t formulate the words, can’t find them in any language to explicitly tell him how he’s breaking.

“ _Shane_ ,” he says instead, like that conveys it just enough, but then he’s startled, dazed, like he must have done something wrong when Shane pulls out and the rhythm is gone, and Ryan’s arms are shaking.

“I wanna see you,” Shane says, tugging at Ryan’s shoulder, so Ryan lets himself fall to the bed, turning to lay on his back. He’s in a weird headspace, like he’s not fully present. His body aches, but in a way he knows will cease once Shane slips back inside of him. Ryan looks up with tired eyes, and Shane just looks beautiful in this light, with wild eyes and flushed chest and his soft tummy. Ryan is just—he’s just—

He knows the words, but he can’t use them here, not in this context when he’s half fucked out, just out of reach of bliss, but the reverence on Shane’s face, the unmistakable wonder in his eyes; Ryan knows that look.

“Come here, please,” Ryan says, relaxing his body, leaving himself pliant. Shane, in a turn of events, obeys, blanketing his body over Ryan’s. When Ryan curls his arms around Shane’s waist, he can feel the way he shakes, his breath rough. How could Ryan have deluded himself into thinking Shane wasn’t at all affected by him?

“Again,” Ryan says. “ _Please_.” Shane kisses him, wild and reckless; their teeth clink together, and Ryan scratches his nails against Shane’s flesh, and then Shane is inside of him again, sitting back and gripping Ryan’s thighs as he fucks inside of him. Ryan just lets it control his body, laying there, moaning out these little _uh uh_ noises in between chanting Shane’s name. At some point, Shane tilts his hips back and Ryan cries out, his voice reverberating off the walls, echoing in his ears, just over the breathy, primal way Shane says, _that’s it, baby._

And then, Shane slows down, just enough for Ryan to catch his breath. Just enough to watch Shane crowd over him. His heart is shuddering in his chest, skin overheated; Shane’s thrusting is hard but it’s deliberate, calculated; Ryan lets his eyes flutter closed. Then, he feels fingers against his neck, touching over the plastic choker.

Ryan’s body tenses, but he watches Shane, just makes sure to keep his eyes on him, watching his face, the way he’s breathing so fast, dripping sweat; the way he fucks slower into Ryan, long, deep strokes that have Ryan bearing his neck, arching his back. Shane’s hand presses, barely any weight over Ryan’s neck, and oh _God_ , Ryan’s so close, so close he can taste it, biting down on his lip so hard. And then Shane squeezes, thumb and fingers, just enough to make it hard to breathe, just enough for his eyes to get a little wide, his moans wheezing precariously, but _fuck_ , it heightens everything, makes his skin burn, sets his lungs on fire and makes his body shake. Shane watches him, heavy eyes, darkness deep in the irises. Ryan grips his hand around Shane’s forearm, just to hang on, just so he won’t lose himself in the feeling of it—it’s so much for his body to handle. There are tears again, streaming down the sides of his face, and it’s too much vulnerability to show Shane, he turns away, looking towards the window, where the blinds are open and the city lights are blurred.

Shane takes his hand away, but Ryan looks back at him, and harshly whispers, “Again, I’m so close, Shane, _please_.”

“You have to look at me,” he says, “you have to look at me.”

Ryan nods, his hand still on Shane’s arm, and he grips when Shane’s hand returns, pressing down on his neck, keeps his eyes on Shane and finally, Shane’s free hand reaches between their bodies and tugs meagerly at Ryan’s dick for moments before Ryan is shattering, groaning loud and unabashed, calling out Shane’s name like an absolution. The grip of Shane’s hand loosens from around his throat and Ryan gulps down air; he can feel Shane fucking him through the tremors and he’s much too sensitive for it, it’s too much, but he lays there, takes it, because as out of it as he is, he wants to watch Shane come, wants to feel it inside of him, dripping out when Shane inevitably slips out of him. 

“Come on, Shane,” Ryan says, his voice barely a whisper, reaching to touch Shane’s shoulders, to pull him closer so their bodies are pressed together. He kisses Shane’s neck, that gentle space beneath the corner of his jaw and he can feel it, the way Shane’s hips falter, stutter until he’s in so deep it steals Ryan’s breath. And he can feel it, warm inside him, almost uncomfortably wet as Shane fucks Ryan as he comes, groaning Ryan’s name so unashamedly. He focuses on Shane’s breathing, but then his vision blurs and all he can do is stare at the ceiling. Shane’s body is heavy on top of him, but he’s not really inside his mind to be aware of himself, of his limbs. It’s an empty space this place he finds, just Shane’s breathing and the ceiling; his eyes flutter closed.

:::

It feels like ages when he comes back to himself, when he regains his focus and realizes Shane’s not on him anymore. He’s lying next to Ryan, holding him so gingerly, kissing over his shoulder, fingers toying so softly with the choker that sits around his neck. He’s so deeply satisfied his body aches with it, sore from being so tense, so worked up, just to crash this hard.

After several moments of their quiet breathing, Shane speaks in a whisper, leaning on his elbow to look down at Ryan. Ryan looks at him, but barely, not wanting to move very much.

“Ryan, babe,” he murmurs. “Are you okay? Tell me how you feel.” There’s concern in his tone, spilling warmth over Ryan.

Ryan hums, closing his eyes, but he can feel the smile twisting his lips. “Good. Happy.”

Shane’s laughter is breath, warm against his skin.

“I feel like—I don’t know,” Ryan confesses. “Like I blacked out a little, honestly. But it was just so good, better than I imagined.”

“I’m glad,” Shane says, and Ryan presses into Shane when he kisses him. There’s an ache in his back, his hips, his thighs, but he ignores it all, the mess between his legs, just to kiss Shane for a little while longer.

“I’m so tired,” he says against Shane’s lips.

“You need a shower,” Shane says. “You’re going to…don’t be surprised if like—you’re just gonna have it coming out of you for a while.” Ryan opens his eyes, watching the way Shane’s face looks a little flushed. He just fucked Ryan stupid and now he’s fallen into himself, too reserved to say Ryan’s going to have Shane’s come leaking out of him.

Ryan laughs. “That’s okay. I would do it again,” he says pointedly. “With you. If you wanted to.”

“Yeah?”

“I got a kink list a mile long, buddy. Saddle the fuck up.”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](https://uneventfulhouses.tumblr.com/)! thanks for reading!!


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